


and in the night, you'll hear me calling

by shawsdavid



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, F/M, LADY LIVES AU, Sansa POV, Sort Of, a you-see-in-black-and-white-until-you-meet-your-soulmate au, but there are like 2 instances of jon and marg pov just because i felt like it, we don't follow proper literary rules, we're not english majors here folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2019-10-07 02:44:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17357438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shawsdavid/pseuds/shawsdavid
Summary: When you met your soulmate, touched them for the first time, you would see everything in all its colorful glory.





	1. part one

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wightjon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wightjon/gifts).



> Written for wightjon for the GOT/ASOIAF Secret Santa 2018 on Tumblr! sorry it's late, I hope you like it!
> 
> note: I put underage as a warning because I'm following the book ages more than the show, but some show storylines will come into play later on.

Jon couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t see his colors. Sometimes he thought he could vaguely recall a memory of when everything was in blacks and whites and grays, but when he tried to think more about it, it wisped away, like smoke. His whole life that he could remember, however, had been a mix of his colors and the gray of everything else. He saw the green of the plants in the glass gardens, the brown of his little sister’s and his father’s hair, the purple of some ladies’ dresses.

He was very fond of his colors, but he also knew that he was missing the rest of them.

Jon remembered the first time he realized he couldn’t see every color. His father had sat he and Robb down when they were about five. He had explained to them about colors, and soulmates, and how it all worked - or at least how much was understood about it. When you met your soulmate, touched them for the first time, you would see everything in all its colorful glory. Eddard had believed that soulmates were chosen by the Old Gods, long before the people were ever born, because they would come together and make a difference in the world. Their unions mattered.

He also explained that not everyone had a soulmate, that those people could see colors but nowhere near as vibrant and lively as those with soulmates could. And when someone lost a soulmate, their colors went away forever. If they never had the chance to meet their soulmate, they’d never get to see colors at all.

At first, Jon thought that this information meant that he didn’t have a soulmate. He could see colors based on his father’s description of them, but Robb’s hair didn’t look bright to him. It was gray. The fire wasn’t glowing. It was dull and white and gray.

When he said this to his father, though, Eddard’s brow had furrowed.

“Only some colors, Jon?” he had asked. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, father,” Jon had replied, looking at his feet. He remembered thinking he must be in trouble. “Some of Lady Stark’s dresses are bright and some are very dull. Some flowers are very pretty but some are gray. They all have green stems, though.”

Eddard had looked thoughtful, but concerned just the same. He’d told Jon he’d look into it, but he had never found anything. Jon had just learned to add it to the list of things that made him an outsider.

*

Sansa had always been able to see her colors. As she grew and learned about soulmates and colors she held them very dear to her heart. She knew she had a soulmate out there, she was sure of it. Yes, it was odd that she could only see a few of them, but her mother and Septa Mordane had always assured her that it just meant she was special. Maybe she’d see the rest of them when she and her soulmate were betrothed or married.

She didn’t know anyone else with colors except for her parents, and she was very happy that the gods had deemed her important enough at so young, as her mother said. Rickon was too young for them to know, and the rest of the Stark siblings saw in black and white and gray.

Although she supposed her half-brother Jon Snow counted, too. But she had never asked him about colors, so she didn’t know if he had them or not. So she asked him what he thought about her dress one day. It was a beautiful blue that she knew almost perfectly matched her eyes.

“Er…” Jon looked extremely uncomfortable. It was obvious he didn’t want to offend her.

“I know you don’t know anything about dresses, Jon,” she said. “I want to know what you think of the _color_.”

He frowned then, looking intently at the dress in question.

“I can’t see that color, Sansa,” he said apologetically. “I’m sure it’s lovely, or else you wouldn’t be wearing it. I do love the purple flowers in your hair, though.”

He smiled, but Sansa’s heart stopped.

“You can see purple, but not blue?”

“Blue? Is that what color it is? No, blue isn’t one of my colors.”

“So you can only see a few colors then?” Sansa asked, her eyes wide.

“Yes,” Jon frowned once again. “I know it’s abnormal and it’s probably just because I’m a bastard or something of the like-”

“No, no, Jon,” Sansa interrupted. “I can only see a few colors as well.”

Jon looked at her in shock, then his expression slowly morphed to hurt.

“Sansa, if this is just a trick…”

“Jon, I swear it. Come with me, I’ll show you.”

He followed her to the glass garden first. She knelt down next to where lettuce was growing.

“This looks dark gray to me,” she confessed to him, then looked around them. “Most of this looks gray. I can only see the carrots and some peppers. There are more fruits I can see, as well. What does it look like to you?”

Jon knelt down with her, reaching out to touch the leaves.

“It’s green,” he said. “It all has green. I don’t know what color carrots are, but I can see green peppers. And the soil, it’s brown.”

“Green,” she repeated, looking awed. “Brown.”

Sansa’s mind raced; she wasn’t the only special one anymore. She felt a twinge of annoyance that she shared her importance with her bastard half-brother, but if the gods gave him his colors like they gave her hers, he must be destined for greatness like she was.

“We must tell father and mother!” Sansa exclaimed, standing up quickly. Jon’s hand on her arm stopped her.

“Please don’t, Sansa,” he said quietly, looking at his feet. “Father already knows about me, but I don’t want to upset your lady mother.”

“Don’t be silly,” she scoffed. “Mother will be so very interested to hear that someone else has my same gift! She said she’s never heard of anything like it, and neither has Father or Septa Mordane. We’re special, Jon!”

“Sansa…” Jon looked up at her beseechingly. “Please.”

She looked at him, seeing his hunched shoulders and almost frightened eyes. She covered his hand with hers.

“All right, Jon, I won’t.”

But now everything was different. She saw Jon in almost a new light. He was no longer just her bastard half-brother, but someone chosen like her, someone the gods needed. Someone important.

*

When her father and brothers returned from the execution of the Night’s Watch deserter with direwolf puppies, Sansa was overjoyed, her heart calling out to the smallest gray one. The direwolf’s eyes were gray to her, but her father told her they were yellow in truth.

“Oh Jon!” Sansa gasped when she saw his small wolf, all white with glowing red eyes. “I wish you could see his eyes, Jon, they’re beautiful.”

Jon smiled slightly as he looked down at the white wolf in his arms.

“I wish I could too,” he said. “Someday, hopefully.”

He set his pup down on the ground and went to stand by Sansa and watch their siblings play and bicker over what to name their own wolves.

“Have you decided on a name, Jon?” Sansa asked him, rolling her eyes when Arya and Bran began to wrestle over some jab.

“I like Ghost,” Jon replied. “He’s quiet, and white like snow. He blends in like a ghost would.”

Sansa smiled, “It’s very fitting.”

“And you? What have you named your little wolf lady?”

“Lady,” Sansa repeated. “I like the sound of that. Lady will be her name.”

Jon’s cheeks warmed and he looked down at his feet.

“Look!”

Jon and Sansa turned to see what Arya had yelled about. Ghost and Lady had curled around each other next to the fire and were sleeping soundly as the rest looked on. Soon, the rest of the wolf pups joined them in a pile. The siblings sat around them and told stories until Rickon’s eyes were drooping.

Ghost nuzzled into Lady’s stomach, and she gave him a lick in return.

Jon and Sansa smiled at each other, almost like they shared a secret.

*

King Robert and his retinue arrived about a month after, and it was all Sansa could do not to beg her mother to agree to let her marry the prince once she heard the king had asked her father of it.

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted, Mother,” she said, looking up at her.

“Sansa,” her mother sighed. “You know your predicament is strange. Have you been able to see any more colors since you laid eyes on the prince?”

“No… But maybe the colors are just waiting to appear until after we’re married! You said yourself, Mother, this is strange and no one knows what might happen.”

“And what if they don’t?” Her mother sat next to her and pulled her hands into her own. “Sansa, a marriage is no small thing, especially one to a crown prince. He is the heir to the Iron Throne. If you wed, and your colors do not come, and then his appear when he meets someone else, you will be set aside. Disgraced. And any children you would have before that would be illegitimate. Do you want to risk that?”

Sansa’s eyes filled with tears. She could think of nothing she wanted less, except maybe never finding her own soulmate.

“At least let me go to the capital, Mother, please,” she wiped her tears away and looked back to her mother. “Maybe my soulmate will be there, and if not then at least I will have been south once in my life.”

*

“Jon you can’t possibly be serious about going to join the Night’s Watch now!” Sansa had angrily marched into Jon’s shared chambers with Theon right after she heard. “You’re much too young, and what about your soulmate? You’ll never find them up there! If you die, you’ll condemn them to a life of black and white!”

Jon let her yell at him for a few moments, but then held his hand up.

“Could I speak, Sansa?” he looked torn between amusement and melancholy.

“Well only if you’ve got an explanation for yourself!”

“You know I’ve long wanted to join the Night’s Watch, Sansa,” he started. “Your lady mother does not want me here after you’ve gone to the capital with our lord father. He’s decided to finally let me join the Watch because of this. I’ve got nowhere else to go.”

“That’s ridiculous; why don’t you just come south with us?”

“To the royal court?” he huffed out a laugh. “It would be an insult, and disgrace your house.”

“Then…” Sansa bit her lip in frustration. “Surely Robb would let you stay! He will be here as the acting lord of Winterfell while Father is away. My mother can’t say no to that.”

“Robb wouldn’t cause your lady mother undue discomfort when I could just go to the Wall like I’ve wanted to.”

“What about your soulmate, Jon?” Sansa felt distraught. She wasn’t sure why this was causing her such pain to think about; it just didn’t feel right - her going south, and he going as far North as can be.

“Sansa…” Jon sighed, and gestured for her to sit down as he did the same. “I did not ever really mean to seek my soulmate out.”

“Why?!” Sansa could not believe this. Someone not wanting to find their soulmate? He had to be joking.

“I am a bastard, Sansa. No matter what the gods have deemed; they seem not to understand how our world works. I cannot give my soulmate any lands. I have nothing to offer but myself. I do not believe that would be enough for anyone, soulmate or not.”

Sansa’s heart felt like it was splintering into a thousand pieces. She wanted to shake him, yell at him, make him understand how wrong he was about soulmates. She wanted him to know that when he met his soulmate, neither he nor they would care about the material. Their bond meant they were made for great things!

She opened her mouth to tell him this, but suddenly there was shouting from the yard below them. Jon went to the window to see what was happening right as Theon burst into the chamber.

“Jon!” he was winded, clearly he had been running to get there. He noticed Sansa and nodded at her in confusion. “My lady. There’s been an accident. Bran. He fell.”

Sansa felt all the color drain from her face and she looked to Jon to see the same.

They ran.

*

It was the hardest thing Sansa had ever had to do before, leaving Winterfell while Bran suffered unconsciously. She wanted to stay until he awoke, ( _if he awoke,_ a voice whispered in her mind), but the king and his family should not be away from the capital so long. That now included she and her father and sister.

When the time came for Jon to part ways with them and head North, Sansa felt absolutely lost. She felt like she was losing too much; she had left three brothers behind, and now one - the one she shared her special colors with, the one who was _important_ like her - was leaving her behind. Going north, north, north, and she would probably never see him again.

“Jon, please,” she pleaded when he came to say goodbye to her. Lady whined and wrapped herself around Ghost, and Sansa’s heart broke even more. “Don’t go. Don’t leave us. Don’t give up on finding your soulmate.”

“Sansa…” Jon sighed, looking pained. “I must. There’s nothing for me here, or anywhere but the Watch.”

“I’m here,” she said, eyes filling with tears. “Arya is here, Father is here! Your soulmate is out there, waiting for you. You’re going to leave them with nothing but questions their whole life. Just black and white and a life unfulfilled. A _love_ unfulfilled.”

“Sansa-”

“You’re special, like me, don’t you understand? The gods chose us. We’re different. Our soulmate bonds must be for something extremely important, and you’re going to throw it away.”

Jon sighed again. “I need to go. I have always known I was going to join the Watch, Sansa, and so did you. These colors don’t change that, no matter how precious they are to me. Or to you. Or the gods.” He came up to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sure I’ll see you again when you come home and I come to visit.”

He smiled, trying to cheer her, but she smacked his arms away angrily.

“You know as well as I do that one or both of us may never return to Winterfell, Jon,” she felt a tightness in her chest, an anger towards her brother - _half-brother_ \- that she had never quite felt before. Lady moved to her side, growling slightly. “If you do this, knowingly condemn someone out there to wait and wait for you while you rot on the Wall -” She turned away from him. _I won’t let him see me cry anymore._

“What, Sansa?” he asked quietly. She needed to hit him where he would hurt the most, she needed to make him see.

“Then I will never forgive you. Then I will know you are truly what my mother always thought: a bastard not worth my attention and love.”

She didn’t know how long they stood there, in the deafening silence following her words. She felt awful at her words, but held her chin high. If she broke, he would leave.

Jon finally released a long low breath he seemed to have been holding since she spoke. “Come, Ghost,” he said, his voice betraying no emotion. “Goodbye, Sansa.”

She turned quickly, to reach out or call out she didn’t know. But he was gone.

*

Sansa loved King’s Landing. The warmth, the gardens, the beaches. It was all so new and beautiful and she wanted to let it make her forget the circumstances of her arrival. She hardly saw any black and white here. She wanted to put her winter gowns and cloaks and furs in the farthest corner of her wardrobe and wear the lighter, brighter gowns the queen had made popular. She wanted to be distracted.

She and Arya had been at odds since they parted from Jon near the beginning of their journey. Almost a month of insulting each other, of Arya messing with her things, of her making Arya look like a fool. Their father was going mad.

“You must not act like this every single time you annoy one another,” her father had sat them down sternly after he caught them grappling with each other in their solar, their wolves gnashing their teeth. It wasn’t her fault. Arya had started it. “We are the king’s guests of honor now. And you are sisters. You must be kinder to one another.”

“Well maybe if Sansa wasn’t such a lousy excuse for a sister-”

“ _What_ have I done to you?!”

“What did you do to _Jon_ , more like-”

“ _Girls_!”

Their father was standing there with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He sighed and looked at them tiredly.

“What is this you’re talking about, Arya?”

Arya glared at Sansa before turning to their father. “She did something to Jon before he left to go to the Wall, Father. Said horrible things to him, called him a bastard!”

Her father sat down in a chair he pulled from a desk nearby and sighed, looking at Sansa with disappointment and something akin to pain. “Is this true, Sansa?”

Sansa felt like she could vomit, or cry, or maybe both. She looked down at her hands in her lap in shame. “Yes, Father.”

“Why?”

“I had to make him understand, Father, I wanted him to see! He’s left his soulmate somewhere in the world to wait forever for him while he can never be with them! They’ll never know why. They’ll be left with questions and heartbreak and - and he’s left us, his family, right when we need him!” She felt like a dam had broken inside of her, tears welling up in her eyes as she tried to explain her actions. “He knows he’s special, like me. He can see only a few colors and that means we’re important, and our soulmates will be important too. And he’s just ignoring it!”

Arya stared at her in disbelief. “You hurt Jon because you wanted him to stay? You really are a poor excuse for a sister.”

“Arya -” Whatever their father had been about to say was cut off by a sharp knocking on their door.

“Enter.”

A maid entered and curtseyed. “My lord hand, Prince Joffrey requests the Lady Sansa’s presence for a walk in the gardens.”

Sansa flushed with pride. She took a deep breath to calm herself down after her outburst and stood up. “I would love to accompany the Prince on his walk. Father?”

Her father nodded slightly. “We will finish our conversation later.”

*

Prince Joffrey Baratheon was everything Sansa had ever dreamed of. He practically glowed; his smile was beautiful, his clothes were beautiful, and even though she couldn’t see the color of them, his hair and eyes were beautiful as well. He was gracious and charming and as he led her through the gardens by his arm, Sansa wished he was her soulmate.

“Your gown is very beautiful, my lady,” he complimented her, smiling when she blushed.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said demurely. “You look very princely, yourself.”

“You wouldn’t know what a prince looks like, would you?” he said, rather shortly. She blushed again, but this time with embarrassment.

“No, I suppose not, Your Grace.”

“We shall have to be married before too long, my lady, for my mother says that winter will be here sooner than we would anticipate.”

Sansa frowned. “Marry, Your Grace? I did not think that our betrothal was happening.”

“Well of course it’s happening,” he looked at her incredulously. “Or why else are you here?”

“I believed I was accompanying my lord father to be introduced at court, to try and find my soulmate. To see the capital before I was married.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he snapped. “Mother says we’re to be married, and my father the king has given his blessing. If your father thinks to defy mine -”

“Oh no, Your Grace,” Sansa said quickly. “I must have just misunderstood. I believed since we were not soulmates…”

“Soulmates,” the prince scoffed. “I don’t have one. Mother says they’re useless, anyway. She never found hers and everything has turned out just fine for her, and her family.”

“I do have one, Your Grace,” Sansa said quietly. “I always believed soulmates were chosen by the gods in order to do great things.”

He rolled his eyes. “As I said, they’re useless. Why would you want to find your soulmate when you would be queen?”

Sansa looked at him with wide eyes. The crown prince didn’t believe in the importance of soulmates. He was going to make her marry him, and she couldn’t protest. She would never find her soulmate.

She forced a smile. “Of course, Your Grace.”

*

Meeting Ser Loras Tyrell was pure luck.

Sansa came across him on one of her walks with Lady through the gardens. She found herself doing that more and more lately, lost in her thoughts, in what she could only call despair. Since she had Lady she had no need of guards or even maids to accompany her, and she rarely found herself in the presence of others. Ser Loras was certainly a shock.

“Ser Loras!” Sansa curtseyed.

“My lady,” Ser Loras bowed, a beautiful smile on his face. “Are you walking here alone?”

“I have Lady with me,” Sansa said, gesturing to her wolf. Lady regarded Loras thoughtfully.

“Ah, so you do,” Loras smiled at her again. “May I join you, then?”

Sansa blushed. “Of course, ser. If you’d like.”

He offered her his arm, and they set off down the path once more. Lady trotted along side them.

“She has gorgeous yellow eyes, your Lady,” Loras commented as they walked. “I must say, I was quite apprehensive at first when I heard that the Stark girls had brought two direwolves with them, but she seems very well behaved. And nowhere near as big as I was expecting.”

“Well, she’s just about a month or so old, ser,” Sansa said, happy that he recognized how well she had trained Lady. “But did you say you could see her eye color?”

Loras laughed lightly, and even that was beautiful. “Yes, my lady, I did.”

“So… You have met your soulmate?”

“Oh yes.”

“Is she here at court with you?”

“He is, yes, my lady,” Loras looked at her, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“He?” Sansa didn’t quite understand. “I don’t catch your meaning, ser.”

“My soulmate is a man, my lady.”

Sansa gaped like a fish out of water before quickly composing herself. A _man_? She had never heard of one man’s soulmate being another man. She felt as though she would have heard of an instance like that.

“Are you making a joke at my expense, ser?” she asked with suspicion. “If so, I do not appreciate it.”

Loras laughed, for real this time, loudly. “No, my lady, I swear to you I am not. My soulmate is the Lord Renly Baratheon, brother of King Robert.”

Sansa was shocked once again into an open mouth, but recovered much faster this time. Her mind was racing. This was entirely new to her. She supposed it was always possible; the gods didn’t need to pick a man and a woman to do great things, she had just never thought about it. Perhaps… Perhaps her soulmate was a woman, and that’s why her colors had come differently than was heard of.

“Ser, before you met your Lord Renly,” she began, choosing her words carefully. “How did you see? In black and white? Or did you possibly see only a few colors, and the rest appeared when you met him?”

Loras frowned. “I saw in all black and white before I met him, my lady. Why do you ask?”

“Oh,” Sansa was disappointed. “No reason, ser, I was just wondering.”

They walked in silence for a bit before Loras started another conversation.

“My sister is soon to come to court,” he began. “She sees in black and white as well, and my family hopes that she will meet her soulmate here.”

“Oh, how lovely,” Sansa replied. “I had hoped to find my soulmate here as well.” _But now there’s no chance of that, she did not add_.

“So the prince is not your soulmate, then?” he asked, surprised.

“No, ser, the prince is not my soulmate.”

“That is interesting. Perhaps I will bring my sister here sooner than originally planned. She is only a few years older than you, my lady. I hope you will be great friends.”

“If she is anywhere near as kind as you, Ser Loras, I am sure we will be.”

*

In theory, Sansa knew what happened when kings died. She had grown up on stories of Robert’s Rebellion, his victory, of Jaime Lannister slaying the former king. Even before that, she knew the rest of Westerosi history. Many kings had died in this country of hers, and she knew what happened when they did.

But knowing was not the same as experiencing, as she found out quickly after the king had succumbed to his wounds from the boar hunt.

She’d been taken hostage, for lack of a better word, as soon as Joffrey had proclaimed himself the king. She had no idea where her father was, where Arya was, where her Septa or any of her father’s household was. Then she was told that her father was a traitor. She must have fainted after that, because she remembers waking up in a bed in a chamber that wasn’t her own, with guards at the door.

The queen told her that her father had tried to take the throne for himself as soon as King Robert died. That he and Renly Baratheon must have been in league with one another, since Renly and Ser Loras and many man fled the city before most people even knew the king was dead.

Sansa was in shock. Her father would never betray his best friend, the king, or his family. Nor would he betray the realm. He was a man of honor, and she told the queen this over and over again. She begged to be able to plead her father’s case to the king. She knew her father would recant, he must have been delirious from grief, from pain from his injury, he would never stay by his words if they meant treason.

She was granted audience with the newly-crowned King Joffrey, and went to her knees begging for forgiveness for her father. Another chance, send him to the Wall, anything.

Now she stood on the steps of the Sept of Baelor, feeling nothing but relief as her father renounced what he had previously claimed. She smiled at him encouragingly. This would all be over soon.

And then Joffrey ordered her father’s head cut off.

*

In her dreams, she ran. She saw Nymeria, and Arya, and the man from the Night’s Watch that had come asking for men a few weeks prior. Arya’s hair was cut like a boy’s. She watched her roll away in a cart filled with other boys. She whined in a mix of sorrow and farewell. Then she looked up at the Red Keep, where she knew her master slept, and crept towards the godswood.

*

Sansa awoke in the dead of night, a breeze lightly flowing through her open window. She looked around in confusion at first, before she noticed the guard by the door, and one on the terrace as well. Then she remembered everything. A fresh wave of agony rolled through her and she heard a distant wolf howl carried on the wind.

She had never felt so alone.

She thought of her mother, and how she must feel like her heart is being ripped out. She wondered how she would be able to deal with seeing in black and white for the rest of her days, now that she had had so many years with color - with her father. She thought of Arya, and she hoped she would be safe. She hoped she would make it home; she knew the queen would be looking for her. She thought of Robb, who would now be the Lord of Winterfell at so young, and of Bran, who lost his legs and now his father too, and of Rickon, who was so young and would barely remember their lord father when he grew.

She thought of Jon, way up north on the Wall, wearing all black and seeing nothing but white, even though he had the ability to see more. Her heart ached for him the most, she realized. He would want revenge for their father, but he wouldn’t be able to seek it. He was stuck up there, and she was stuck down here. She wished he was here with her now, to help her understand, to help her escape. She cried herself back to sleep wishing she had done everything different.

*

Ten months later, Loras returned, with an army, and food for King’s Landing, and his sister. Sansa was no longer betrothed to Joffrey; that was Margaery’s plight now. The small bit of relief that came with that news was soon replaced with fear. Sansa felt nothing but fear nowadays. Fear for herself, now that she was only a hostage and not the future queen, fear for Margaery, now that she must shoulder the weight of Joffrey’s attention, fear for her family - for Robb most especially - as they continue to fight.

When she received an invitation to dine with this new queen-to-be and the Tyrell family, she didn’t know what to think. Yes, Ser Loras had been kind to her before everything had gone wrong, but his family fought with the Lannisters now. His soulmate was dead and they had renounced him in order to win back favor. And she was considered a traitor now - why would they want to dine with a traitor?

She accepted anyway, of course she did, and waited anxiously for the next two days thinking about what they might want with her. She didn’t see the Lady Margaery or her terrifying grandmother, the so-called Queen of Thorns, in the meantime, but she did see Ser Loras in the gardens at one point. They smiled at each other and tilted their heads in respectful greeting, but their eyes betrayed how much sadness they were in, and they kept walking without stopping.

*

When Sansa arrived at the dinner, Ser Loras came to greet her. He offered a small smile to her, which she returned, and took his arm. He led her into an open space with a large table. Sansa saw that Lady Olenna Tyrell was seated at the head of one side, and a younger woman was seated to her right. They both turned to look at her, and Sansa’s breath caught in her throat.

Lady Margaery Tyrell was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. She and her grandmother both rose to greet her, but Sansa could hardly spare a glance for Lady Olenna; her eyes didn’t want to leave Margaery. Her hair and eyes were gray to Sansa’s eyes, but she could see the dress she was wearing had little purple flowers along the neckline.

Margaery came to hug her, all smiles and smelling lovely, and Sansa’s heart leapt to her throat.

The instant they touched, everything changed for her. Her sight burst into complete color; everything, everything was color! She felt Margaery stiffen slightly in surprise in her arms, but when she pulled back, the other girl was smiling as well. Smiling with her wide eyes that were just a moment ago gray, but now had color! Her hair had the same color! Her dress was full of color, mingling with the purple flowers. They stared at each other for a few seconds, before realizing that they must look odd.

“Sansa,” Margaery breathed, releasing her. “Sansa Stark. How lovely to meet you.”

“And you, my lady,” Sansa already missed the feeling of Margaery’s skin against her own. “I have been waiting to meet you.”

Margaery’s eyes crinkled as she laughed joyously. “You must join me later for tea, Sansa! I would love to sit with you and talk, just us two.”

“Of course, my lady,” Sansa was quick to agree. “It would be an honor.”

They sat across from each other, with Loras at Sansa’s left. She tried her best to answer their questions, even the terrifying ones about Joffrey and his treatment of her, but the entire dinner her mind was spinning. What could this mean? Margaery was obviously her soulmate, but why did the gods withhold half of her colors until they met? Had Margaery experienced the same thing?

She thought once of Jon, of what this meant in regards to his soulmate, and felt a twinge of longing. Then she returned to the conversation at hand.


	2. part two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi so I had this as two parts but these last few months have been really really hard on me and I've only been able to write about 2k words since new years and I really just wanted to get what I had out so I could feel good about it! so here is a small chapter for now, and hopefully I will be able to get the third and final part out soon (:
> 
> note: I'm not including Sansa and Tyrion's marriage in this fic, so that's why it's not... here, lol

“Oh, Sansa!” Margaery laughed in delight, looking around her in wonder. They were in Margaery’s solar after dinner; she had dismissed her ladies and they were alone. The thought of it made Sansa’s heart beat almost too fast for her to handle. “It’s so beautiful!”

 _You’re so beautiful_ , Sansa wanted to say. She felt her face heat up at the thought. _Margaery Tyrell_ , queen-to-be, was her soulmate. _Hers_! Her soulmate would marry Joffrey and become queen, Sansa thought jealously, _but he will never truly have her_.

“I did think there would be more, though,” Margaery continued. That brought Sansa out of her thoughts.

“More, my lady?” she asked. “What do you mean, more?”

“Please, Sansa, call me Margaery,” Margaery’s eyes twinkled as she smiled mischievously at her. “I think our situation quite calls for it, don’t you?”

Sansa blushed once more and ducked her head to hide it.

“Of course, my - Margaery,” she said quietly.

“As for the colors, well… I thought there would be more of them. I can only see a few. Like your hair, how gorgeous your hair is! And this plant,” she gestured to a table where flowers were in a vase, “the stem has color now.” She turned back to Sansa. “But your eyes are still gray. So are the flowers. Why do I not see all colors?”

Sansa stared at her with wide eyes. Now Margaery was going through what she had gone through her whole life? But it made no sense. They had found each other! Sansa’s world was bursting with color! Every object that was once gray was now full of life. So why couldn’t Margaery see it?

She thought back to before, back in Winterfell, back with her family and friends. She couldn’t remember a time before her colors. They had always been there. And now, after meeting her soulmate, she had the rest. What was wrong? She thought of Jon, also having only half colors. Why? Why only half?

 _Oh._ Sansa realized. _Oh!_

“Margaery,” she began tentatively, the name still sounding strange on her lips, “I think… I mean, it might be that… we have another one. Another soulmate, I mean.”

Margaery stared at her like she had gone mad.

“Another soulmate? Sansa, you can’t be serious. I have never heard of someone having _two_ soulmates! Wouldn’t we have heard of that sort of phenomenon?”

“Well, I suppose so,” Sansa said. “But you see, I grew up with only a few colors. I always thought that meant I was special, that my soulmate was someone special. But now that I’ve met you, I can see all of them! Only you can’t. You can only see some. It makes sense that I just met our other soulmate when I was very young, before I could remember. And now you have yet to meet them, which is why you don’t have all of them.”

“But… Why? Who?” Margaery paced back and forth. Sansa wanted to go to her, calm her, but she didn’t. _It might be too much_.

“I don’t know. The gods are strange in their intentions. But it must be someone I met in Winterfell when I was very young.” Sansa thought of the many people in Winterfell, overwhelmed by the possibilities. “Oh, I shall have to write Jon about this! He must know he has two soulmates as well!”

“Jon?” Margaery questioned. She sat on a couch of a very nice color that Sansa had yet to name - she would need to start learning the names of the other colors as soon as possible, she thought - and gestured for Sansa to sit next to her.

“My brother.” Sansa answered as she took her seat. “Half-brother, really. My father’s bastard son.”

Margaery nodded, looking lost in thought. “And he has two soulmates as well? How do you know?”

“Well, he and I found out when we were very young that we both only saw a few colors. It makes sense that if we have another soulmate to find, he would have two as well.”

“Sansa,” Margaery’s eyes widened. “What if _he_ is our other soulmate? He has been in your life since you can remember, you both saw a few colors, it must be!”

“ _No_ ,” Sansa shook her head violently. “It can’t be. He is my brother. That’s never happened before. It wouldn’t. It can’t.”

At that, Margaery deflated slightly. “Oh, of course. You’re right. The gods wouldn’t be so cruel.”

Sansa felt a little sick. _Wouldn’t they?_

*

Over the next two months, everything was almost perfect. If Sansa erased her interactions with the king, Cersei, and any other Lannister or their supporters, it was pure bliss. She spent most of her time with Margaery and her ladies; she dined with the Tyrells just about every night. More oft than not, Margaery would invite her to share her bed and they would talk for hours at night until they fell asleep, their foreheads pressed together and holding hands.

Margaery’s grandmother knew of their secret, as did Loras, but to everyone else it seemed as though the current and former queens-to-be happened to get along swimmingly. There was even talk among the Tyrells of marrying Sansa to Willas, or even Loras, in order to keep her close.

The only things that weighed on her mind were Margaery’s impending marriage… and Jon.

She couldn’t get what Margaery had suggested out of her mind. She couldn’t deny it made perfect sense. Perhaps she had known for a good while, but had forced herself to ignore what was right in front of her. Her own _brother_! Her bastard half-brother, yes, but brother all the same. Would the gods truly be so cruel to them both? What were the three of them to do? Were she and Jon supposed to share Margaery, take turns for her time and love and attention? Would she be expected to watch as Margaery had children with him, knowing she would never have children of her own?

Or, if the gods truly bound their souls together, would she be expected to have children _with_ him?

She searched for the feeling of disgust that she knew she should feel at the idea, but found none within her. Now that she knew that Jon must be her other soulmate, the prospect of being with him that way, having a family with him - a _life_ \- didn’t seem so horrible as it should. She wondered what her father would think of her if he were here, what her mother would say when she found out. _If I ever see her again, what will I say?_

*

“Sansa,” she stirred slightly, forcing her eyes open. “Sansa.”

“Mmm?”

“You fell asleep again,” Margaery giggled. They were out on Margaery’s terrace; they had dragged blankets and pillows out in order to lay under the stars and wait for the moon to get to the point in the sky that told them it was the next day: Sansa’s nameday.

“Oh,” Sansa blushed and sat up more. “I didn’t mean to.”

Margaery sat up as well, reaching for her hand. “It’s all right, Sansa. I let you sleep for a bit, but I had to wake you to tell you - it’s officially your nameday.”

“Oh!” Sansa said once again, looking up at the sky. “This time last year my father was still alive.”

Margaery squeezed her hand. “You mustn’t think of such things, Sansa, not today. I want you to be happy. I have a gift for you!”

Sansa turned to Margaery and smiled, “A gift? What kind of gift?”

“Well close your eyes and I shall give it to you.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Sansa teased. Margaery stuck her tongue out at her before her eyes drifted closed.

A few seconds later, she felt a slight pressure against her lips, and she started, her eyes flying open as she pulled away.

“Margaery-” she began, but Margaery put her finger against her lips before leaning in once more.

Sansa fully forgot how to breathe for a few seconds, her brain focused entirely on the feeling of Margaery’s lips against her own. It was one thing to touch your soulmate for the first time, and another thing entirely to touch them in this way - for _romance_. She felt Margaery’s hands cup her face, rubbing small circles into her jawline.

 _She is so gentle_ , thought Sansa. _What did I do to deserve this gentle, bright, beautiful queen? How could the gods choose me to be loved by her?_

Margaery pulled away a few millimeters to look into her eyes before pressing small kisses into different parts of her face.

“You must know,” she spoke in between kisses, “how much,” her cheeks, “I have wanted,” her nose, “I have needed,” her eyelids, “to kiss you,” her neck - and Sansa felt her whole body heat up - “since we first touched,” finally her lips once more, “and you showed me my first colors.”

“I-” Sansa tried to speak, but felt her words fail before they even formed.

“I know, of course, it is inevitable to love your soulmate, Sansa,” Margaery told her while gazing into her eyes, “But I need you to know, truly, that I love you.” And she kissed her once more.

This time, Sansa felt prepared and pressed back. She pushed all of her overwhelming feelings into her kiss; she pushed her happiness, her relief, her fear, her sadness, her _love_ for Margaery into the other girl’s lips.

She pulled away slightly when she felt Margaery giggling slightly. “What is it?” Sansa blushed, feeling embarrassed. Maybe she was doing it wrong.

“Oh Sansa,” Margaery breathed, gazing at her again. “You are so beautiful, and perfect. We have so much time together. Let us sleep, and tomorrow we will make it your best nameday ever.”

She kissed Sansa one more time before lying back down against the pillows and pulling Sansa next to her, pushing their foreheads together.

“I love you, Sansa Stark,” and that was what sent Sansa to her dreams.

*

But of course, the bliss couldn’t last.

Just a fortnight after her birthday, Loras had arrived at her chambers as he usually did in order to escort her to dinner with the rest of the Tyrells. He and Sansa had talked idly of their days on the way there, and Sansa couldn’t wait to see Margaery, even though she had just been with her a few hours before.

But when they arrived to the chamber where they usually dined, they found that Lord Tyrion was waiting there along with Lady Olenna and Margaery.

“Lord Tyrion,” Sansa curtseyed while Loras bowed briefly. She looked to Margaery in confusion and saw that her face was white. Sansa felt her stomach drop; something was very wrong.

“My lady,” Lord Tyrion began solemnly, holding his hands clasped in front of him, “I am afraid I have some rather… unfortunate news for you.”

“Unfortunate,” Lady Olenna snorted behind him from where she was seated at the head of the table. Margaery took a step towards Sansa, but aborted the movement just as quickly. “You might as well not soften your words. The girl’s life has been changed.”

Lord Tyrion seemed like he wanted to make an unkind remark in response, but thought better of it. He took a few steps closer to her. Sansa’s grip on Loras’s arm tightened. She hadn’t even realized she was still holding onto him.

“Lady Sansa,” Lord Tyrion began again. “We have just received news of the deaths of your brother and your mother.”

Sansa stared at him in shock. It couldn’t be. Robb was meant to win the war. He was meant to come save her. He was meant to be _alive_.

And her mother. Oh gods, her _mother_.

Dimly, Sansa could hear Lord Tyrion asking her if she understood, if she had heard him. She felt her knees go out from under her and Loras trying to catch her.

For a brief, wild moment before she fainted, she heard an anguished wolf cry on the wind.


	3. part three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello folks here we are at the end, finally, after almost a year. I hope I do justice to my little world, and to these 3. thanks for sticking with me til the end <3

Sansa was numb as she let herself be dressed in preparation for the wedding. Her _soulmate’s_ wedding. She had already cried herself dry, imagining her mother’s and Robb’s last horrific moments - betrayed, bloody, _murdered_. If she thought too in depth of Margaery’s impending marriage, of her having to kiss Joffrey’s frog lips, she might lose her mind.

She was numb as she was forced to watch Joffrey receive his wedding gifts. She imagined all the horrific ways _he_ could die from any of them: poisoned from the chalice, so drunk he fell and broke his neck, strangled with the wife’s cloak, struck down with the sword. She imagined herself wielding the blade.

She was numb watching the ceremony - up until Joffrey and Margaery sang out “with this kiss, I pledge my love!” Then she felt a fire curling in the pit of her stomach.

 _You are not capable of love_ , she thought scathingly while she stared at Joffrey. She thought back to the night before, which she had spent with Margaery as she had been for months, to when Margaery had whispered plans of escape to her in the darkness. _And she will never be yours, not truly_.

The fire simmered inside of her while she changed for the feast. She made sure to wear the hairnet Lady Olenna had given her just a few days before. She wanted to remember that _she_ was the one that truly belonged with the Tyrells, with Margaery, even if no one else would.

But when she saw Joffrey clawing at his own throat, blood and wine and half-chewed pie blending together down his chin, the numbness overtook her once more.

 _This is my fault_ , she thought as she stared unblinking at the scene. _I wished for this_.

She was trying to connect her mind to her feet - to run towards the king or away, she wasn’t sure - when she felt a hand tug on her wrist. She turned and came face to face with Margaery.

“Sansa,” she had a wild look in her eyes, urgency warring with disbelief, “We must go, we must go _now_ if we are going to make it out.”

Sansa looked down at their hands, now joined, and back up to Margaery’s face.

“What,” she asked slowly, feeling like she was moving through molasses.

“We’re leaving, Sansa, we have to go now,” Margaery searched Sansa’s face, and whatever she found there had her moving into action; she started pulling Sansa away from the commotion, out of the hall. They seemed to be heading vaguely towards the godswood, and had almost made it there when Sansa finally snapped out of it.

“Margaery,” she hissed, trying and failing to pull her hand back as Margaery kept an iron grip on her. “Margaery, where are we going?”

Margaery just shushed her and kept pulling her along, glancing around as they ran.

A few moments later, Sansa’s suspicions were confirmed when they entered the godswood. Margaery led her to a tree near the middle of the grove and finally let go of her hand, only to reach up into its branches and pull down a large brown sack.

“Margaery,” Sansa tried again, her heart beating wildly in her chest.

Margaery opened the sack and pulled out two cloaks and two dresses. They looked well-made and warm, but easier to move in by far than the gowns they were currently wearing. She started to strip out of her wedding feast gown before she spoke.

“Undress and put this on!” She whispered, thrusting one of the dresses towards Sansa. “There’s a boat waiting for us, but we will never make it out of here if we are dressed like this!”

“A boat?” Despite her confusion and fear, Sansa did as Margaery asked, undressing and then pulling the plainer dress over her head. She reached up to take her hair out of the net; when she held it in her hands she realized one of the stones was missing. Her fingers came back purple-black when she touched the empty space.

Margaery noticed what she was doing and took the hairnet from her. She started to dig a shallow hole in the dirt at the foot of the tree with her hands before placing the net in it and filling it back up again. Sansa watched her in dawning realization and horror.

“Why did you do that? What was that?” She asked. But she knew, deep down.  _We really did kill him_.

“Yes, a boat,” Margaery replied, ignoring her newer questions. She stuffed their previous gowns into the sack and closed it up again. She pulled one of the cloaks around her shoulders and fastened it before doing the same for Sansa with the other one when it became obvious Sansa wasn’t going to do it herself.

“Margaery.” She felt a spike of anger course through her. She needed to know what was going on.

“Sansa, I promise I will explain everything later, but we really must go -” Margaery’s voice was cut off by a low growl and her eyes widened at something over Sansa’s shoulder.

Sansa whirled around to come face-to-face with Lady.

“Lady!” She rejoiced, running towards her direwolf. She threw her arms around Lady’s neck, burying her face in her fur and breathing deep. The smell of home. “Have you been hiding here this whole time? Oh, I missed you so much.”

“Sansa,” came Margaery’s pleading voice. She sounded faint, almost dizzy. Sansa turned back to face her and felt Lady’s tail curl protectively around her ankle.

Margaery’s eyes were wide as they looked at the direwolf, but she still had a determined glint in her eyes. “We need to go now, or we never will.”

Sansa looked at her levelly, feeling stronger now that Lady was back by her side. “I need to know what’s going on.”

“I promise, _I promise_ , I will tell you when we’re safe, _please_ Sansa, we have to go and then I will explain everything,” Margaery begged, looking like she wanted to come closer but didn’t know if Lady would let her. “We’re leaving, we’re getting out and - and going to your brother.”

“My brother?” Sansa asked incredulously.

“Yes, we’re going to the Night’s Watch. It was supposed to be Robb and your mother, but now Jon is the only one left.”

Jon. Sansa’s heart leapt to her throat. Margaery was helping her escape, taking her to see Jon, coming with her.

“But -”

“ _Sansa_ , I will explain everything when we’re safe,” Margaery repeated, holding out her hand. “Please, come with me now.”

Sansa took only a second longer to decide before she reached out and grasped Margaery’s hand in hers.

“Lady,” she said before Margaery could start pulling her along again, “Come.”

*

It took almost half their journey to Eastwatch before Sansa got the full explanation of what happened to Joffrey.

When they had boarded the small ship full of Tyrell men, Margaery had almost immediately passed out in their shared bed. Sansa took the time to inspect the vessel as the crew warily watched Lady prowl alongside her. She tried to convince herself that this was real; she had escaped, she was free, Joffrey was _dead_.

She didn’t trust the men, she didn’t trust anyone anymore, really, except Margaery, but the other girl seemed to trust them and she supposed that would have to be enough.

When Margaery had awoken almost a day later - Sansa hadn’t slept, she couldn’t sleep; she didn’t know if she would ever sleep again - she hadn’t said anything about what had happened, or what the plan was, and Sansa found herself so shell-shocked that she didn’t question her again.

But then one night, almost a fortnight into the journey, Margaery pulled away from where she was curled up with Sansa and Lady on their bed and looked her in the eyes.

“My grandmother, she -” Margaery faltered, taking a deep breath before starting again. “She told me her plan for us to escape after we heard the news about your mother and brother. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way, we were… we were supposed to run to them and propose marriage between me and Robb. Then the Tyrell arms were going to stage a coup in the capital, have it waiting for Robb and I.

“But then we received the news, and they had to come up with something else before the wedding. I told her about Jon, about the colors missing, about how he might be…” she trailed off, not looking Sansa in the eyes anymore. Sansa’s heart skipped. “So they came up with this. We’re going to Eastwatch, and they’ll have horses ready for us, and a few Night’s Watch brothers will take us to Castle Black, to your - to Jon.”

“But… What about the coup? Why did Joffrey die? _How_ did he die? You won’t be queen now.”

Margaery huffed a small laugh. “They were going to propose I wed Tommen, after my period of mourning had ended. Then there wouldn’t need to be a coup, and I’d still be queen. But there was always you. My grandmother knew I wouldn’t let you go, not even to Highgarden to marry Willas. And if you stayed, the Lannisters would likely try to marry you into their family for your birthright.”

“My birthright,” Sansa repeated feebly. _Now that Robb is gone, Winterfell is mine - my responsibility_.

“So they sent me with you, to Jon, to see if he’s…”

“Our soulmate.” Sansa finished for her, finally saying what Margaery had been deflecting.

“Yes,” Margaery breathed. “Even though my grandmother doesn’t care much for the gods or soulmates, she knows their unions mean they are destined for great things. I told her I wanted whatever the gods had planned for us more than I ever wanted to be queen.” Sansa flushed at this. “I’ve always been her favorite. I think that’s why she let me get away with this - thwarting her political plans.” Margaery grinned.

“So… Joffrey…” Sansa hated to bring him up, but she had to know. Margaery’s grin vanished.

“The hairnet my grandmother gave you… The gems were poison. When she was fussing with your hair at the feast, she took one and dropped it into his wine chalice. It wasn’t just for me,” she said solemnly. “The realm couldn’t handle another Mad King.”

Sansa tried to process everything she’d been told. So she _had_ killed Joffrey, by wearing that hairnet to the feast. None of this would’ve happened if she’d done something differently with her hair. She couldn’t tell exactly how she felt about that. On the one hand, she felt like she should be rejoicing in his death for all the pain he put her and her family through. On the other, the way he had died…

“Maybe my family will back Stannis, now,” Margaery continued, and only slightly looked like she was joking. “They can betrothe Willas to his daughter.”

They both giggled a little at that, knowing Stannis would never agree to an alliance or deal with the Tyrells after what had happened with Renly. They leaned back together on the bed, curling up with Lady once more.

Sansa felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time: hope.

*

Her world came crashing down the night before they were due to land.

She and Margaery were playing a game of cards when half of her colors - the half she had _always_ had - went black and white.

She gasped, standing up so swiftly that she knocked the table they’d been using over.

“No,” she moaned, tears welling up in her eyes. “No, no, no, no…”

“Sansa!” Margaery came over to her quickly, wrapping her arms around her. “What’s the matter? What’s happening?”

Sansa squeezed her eyes shut and opened them once, twice, three times. They were still gone.

“My - my _colors_ , Margaery! They’re _gone_!”

“What? What do you mean? I’m - I’m right here.”

“No, no… My first colors, the ones I had from our other soulmate.” Sansa was sobbing in Margaery’s arms. Their other soulmate… If it _was_ Jon, she had just lost the only family she had left.

“Oh, darling…” Margaery tried to calm her, but Sansa could hear the quiver in her voice. “My sweet Sansa. I’m so sorry.”

*

Sansa spoke maybe three words the entire journey to Castle Black. After that first night, which she had bawled the entirety of, she just felt empty. Like someone had reached inside and carved out all her insides, left her hollow. She clung to Margaery like a lifeline when they stopped to rest, but on the move she could barely stand to be acknowledged.

Jon was dead. She didn’t know without a doubt that he was their soulmate, but she knew in her heart. It was the only thing that made sense. He was her other soulmate, and he was dead. And she had never told him sorry for their last words. He had died thinking she thought of him as her _bastard half-brother_ , not someone she could spend her life with.

She had to lean over her horse and retch every time she thought about it.

Margaery was quiet too, but they both knew she would never feel the heartbreak like Sansa did. She had never had the chance to see those other colors, so she would never miss them.

She had never had the chance to see Jon, so she would never miss him.

Lady whined low in the back of her throat.

Sansa retched again.

*

Almost a month after departing from King’s Landing, Sansa and Margaery finally rode through the gates of Castle Black. The brothers of the Night’s Watch eyed them as they rode into the main courtyard and dismounted. The brothers from Eastwatch that had escorted them here went in search of food and beds, while a smiling man came up to them.

“You must be Lady Stark and Lady Tyrell,” he bowed his head to them. “The Lord Commander, he - well, he -”

“Sansa?” Came a strangled voice from behind and above her. She turned around slowly, not sure if she believed what she heard. But there he was.

Jon. Alive and well.

Well, maybe not _well_. He looked haggard, like he had been through hell and back but didn’t much want to have made it.

Sansa choked on a sob and ran to him.

She took a second to be disappointed that he wasn’t her soulmate before their arms were around each other. She nuzzled her face into his neck, breathing deep. Distantly, she could hear the crowd exclaiming as Ghost and Lady excitedly reacquainted.

“Jon,” she whispered. “I thought you were dead.”

Jon froze in her arms.

“What do you mean, you thought I was dead?” He brought her out of the embrace, his hands on her shoulders, so he could look her in the eyes.

“Well, I - the other night we -” she glanced back at Margaery to gesture but stopped short.

“Sansa?” Jon pressed.

Sansa could see Margaery’s dress. Where before she could only see the brown of her cloak, she now saw the purple of her dress. She looked back at Jon, who had a worried expression on his face.

“It’s you,” she breathed, before throwing her arms around his neck again.

“Sansa,” he choked out, startled, “What -”

“Sansa,” Margaery’s voice came from behind Sansa. She let go of Jon and whirled around to find her standing there with a smile on her face. “Don’t you want to introduce us?”

Sansa let out a watery laugh and reached out to grab Margaery’s hand.

“Jon, this is Margaery Tyrell.” _Our soulmate_ , she didn’t add. She wanted to see him realize it.

Jon still looked confused and a little worried, but the moment he touched Margaery’s hand Sansa saw the realization. His eyes snapped to hers, to Margaery’s, back to hers again. Margaery had a delighted smile on her face and tears in her eyes.

“Oh, Sansa,” she said softly, still looking at Jon, “They’re lovely.”

Sansa felt something nudge her hand and looked down to see Ghost gazing up at her. Ghost, with his _red_ eyes. She laughed joyously and threw her arms around his neck.

*

Later, when they were alone in Jon’s chambers, after Jon had explained what happened - why Sansa had lost her colors briefly - and Sansa had processed as much as she could, Jon couldn’t take his eyes off of Sansa. They kept roaming her face, like he couldn’t believe she was there. Like he couldn’t believe she was real at all.

“What are you staring at, Jon?” She asked like she had been able to take her eyes off of him either.

“Your hair,” Jon murmured. “Your eyes. You’re so _beautiful_.”

Sansa flushed. Margaery giggled from her place beside her by the fire. Both Sansa and Jon snapped their eyes to her.

“I think we’re all exceptionally good looking,” she said, beaming, like she was drunk on the feeling of being by their sides. Sansa could relate. “Our children will be so beautiful.”

Sansa flushed again, and this time Jon flushed with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here we finally are! thank you so so so much for reading. I wanted this to be done almost 9 months ago, but better late than never! <3
> 
> please know that I wanted them to kiss in the end, but I couldn't find a way to make it work without seeming forced. just know that they went on to kiss and win their wars and have kids and rule side by side.
> 
> notes: yes I know Olenna didn't give Sansa the hairnet but it fits my purposes and storyline better since I omitted Dontos from the earlier parts. also I know I kinda skimmed through the purple wedding but I feel like... we all know what happened lol. I had a lot more planned for the last chunk; Sansa and Marg were going to be saved by LF just like in the book/show and head to the Eyrie with him and then kill him before heading up to Jon, but that was just so so much and I honestly wanted to get them all together quicker, sue me (just imagine LF is dead somewhere in a ditch where he belongs). that's also why the timeline is a bit messed up. I did a bunch of complicated math and planning way back when I started this, but since it's my universe now.... Jon gets stabbed a lot sooner than he did in canon LOL.
> 
> wanna say thanks to the people who made the ASOIAF Timeline Excel Sheet, that has been literally invaluable to me since I started writing this, and will be again if I ever choose to write more asoiaf fics.
> 
> i'm on tumblr at lesbiancerseilannister if you ever want to say hi or anything else (:


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